


Your mind lay open like a drawer of knives

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Trigger warning: abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years and fifteen days after she goes missing, Sansa Stark walks into their police station.</p><p>Law enforcement AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your mind lay open like a drawer of knives

Three years and fifteen days after she goes missing, Sansa Stark walks into their police station.

"Sir?" Jeyne Poole sticks her head into Barristan Selmy's office. "There's something you're gonna want to see."

"What?" Barristan looks up from his newspaper.

"There's a woman here who claims to be Sansa Stark. She says she escaped from Petyr Baelish."

If it's true, it'll be the biggest break they've had on the Baelish case in _years_.

The woman waiting for him in the interrogation is tall and slender, with red hair tumbling down to her shoulders and a purpling bruise spattered across her left cheekbone. She looks so much like the photos of Catelyn Stark that he does a double-take.

"Gods be good," he murmurs. Time to find out if she's telling the truth.

She looks up at him when he comes into the room, and her blue eyes are cool and guarded. He sits down across from her and slaps two files down on the table. The first one is thick and bulging with paper, and is labeled _Baelish, Petyr_. The second file is much smaller; it's labeled _Starks_.

"I'm Detective Selmy," he says, "and I've been told that you're Sansa Stark."

"Yes," she says, her gaze fixed on the folders in front of them.

"And you escaped from Petyr Baelish?" he asks.

She shuts her eyes for a moment, and shudders. "We went to a different store today, I think he had business. He doesn't usually take me. But today he left me in the car and when he didn't come right out I saw the - I just got out and ran."

She hugs herself with slim arms, her threadbare shirt tightening across her chest with the movement, and starts to cry.

"I'm sorry," she says, gasping through her tears. She swipes a hand across her face, smearing wetness over her cheeks.

"It's all right," he says.

"It's just been so _long_ ," she says, "and- um- he kept me in a house out in the country, off of a- a country road. I don't know where exactly. It's in the mountains." She sniffles. "He drives a white truck and, um- he kept me tied up-" she starts to cry again. Selmy looks closely at her wrists, and sees that they are indeed ringed with bruising. A faint red line also circles her neck. The door to the interrogation room opens and Jeyne brings in a glass of water. She pats Sansa on the shoulder as she leaves.

Sansa buries her head in her arms, and for a long time the only sounds in the room are her gasping breaths as she tries to regain her composure. Selmy leafs through the papers in the Stark file while he waits. Petyr Baelish stares up at him from the table. Even in a black-and-white photocopy of a bad photo, his eyes radiate intelligence and his expression seems smug. He's a king in the criminal underworld, wanted for half a hundred petty crimes- drug running, involvement in prostitution rings, GBH, dog fighting- and mass murder.

Baelish seems to be smirking.

Selmy closes the file and looks over his notes.

"He tied you up?" he says, when she finally looks up at him.

She gives him a shaky nod. Her eyes are still brimming with tears. "He didn't tie me up all the time," she says. "Only when I was bad." She bites her lip.

Seven Hells.

He looks down at the paper in front of him. "Can you tell me about Joffrey?" he asks.

Her eyes widen. "What happened to him?" she asks. "All I remember is being knocked out."

Selmy sighs. He had hoped she would be able to fill in some details for them. Then again, perhaps it's better that she didn't see.

"Miss Stark," he says, "your fiance was murdered. We're pretty sure Petyr Baelish did it."

Her face goes pale, and she rocks back in her seat.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" she says.

"Of course," he says. He taps on the glass behind him, and Poole comes in.

"Can you show Miss Stark where the bathroom is?" he says.

*

'Murdered' doesn't seem to cover what happened to Joffrey Baratheon. His throat was slit so savagely that he was practically decapitated. There had been blood everywhere, on the table, in the sink, splattered on the wall, even under the linoleum. It was like something out of a horror film. Sansa Stark was just gone, and of Petyr Baelish, the only trace was a few hairs found on Joffrey's body and a partial print on the doorframe. After a year, they'd assumed that Sansa Stark was as dead as the rest of her family, and the case had been shelved.

But now she was here, and alive. They'd check her DNA, just to be sure she wasn't some crazy attention-seeker or conman, but Selmy would bet his badge on her being Catelyn Tully's daughter. God, that case had been a nightmare as well. The whole thing had been a fucking mess. If fucking Kettleblack hadn't been in charge of the Red Wedding investigation (that was the name the press gave it), perhaps they'd have caught Petyr Baelish before he could eradicate the rest of Catelyn Tully's family. If only.

But it was too late for that. Now he had Sansa Stark, alive against all the odds, and he was one step closer to catching up to that bastard Petyr Baelish.

*

Sansa seems more collected when she gets back from the bathroom. Selmy smiles at her and resists the urge to reach out and pat her hand. She looks so _young_. She _is_ young. She's nineteen years old, young enough to be his granddaughter. He can almost see why Baelish didn't kill her. Perhaps she reminded him of Catelyn. Perhaps he thought he could have a fresh start.

Sansa is staring at the files again.

"Can I look at these?" she asks. "I know my family is dead," she continues, when he objects. " _He_ told me all the details. I just want to know what's true."

Her face is pale and her eyes are bright and glassy. Nothing he tells her can hurt her, he knows.

"I need this," she says.

Selmy studies her for a moment, and then slides the files across the table towards her.

"Could I have-" she says, and glances at the door, uncertain. Of course she wants privacy.

"Just a few minutes," she says. She sounds desperate.

He leaves Sansa Stark sitting in the interrogation room with the door propped open. He's no expert, but he can guess that being locked into another room is the last thing she needs right now.

He's taken five steps away from the interrogation room when an explosion rips through the station.

*

 

When the smoke clears and the bomb sites have been cordoned off, Sansa Stark is gone. Jeyne Poole is dead. One of the holding cells has been blasted open. Selmy finds himself sitting in a hastily erected temporary command center, being interrogated by Brienne Tarth and Sandor Clegane.

"She seemed- distraught. She seemed like the real thing," Selmy tells them. "She must've planted the first bomb when she asked to go to the bathroom." He recalls how calm she had seemed when she came back to the interrogation room.

"Did she show any interest in any of the prisoners?" Brienne asks him. She's a tall, burly woman with a constantly furrowed brow, and a very earnest officer. Clegane is even taller.

Selmy shakes his head.

"Do we know who was in the cell?" Clegane is asking the room at large. "Do we have a list yet?"

"Why would she want to free a bunch of petty criminals?" Brienne asks. Selmy has no answer for her. A lieutenant comes up to the table, holding a sheet of paper.

"Sir," Lancel Lannister says, "Walder Frey was in that cell. Roslin Tully is his granddaughter. He was at the Red Wedding."

"Gods," Brienne says.

"Her parents," Selmy says. "She wants revenge for her parents. We must have missed something- we need to go over the case again."

"Or Baelish lied to her," Clegane rumbles.

"Either way, it's the only lead we've got," Brienne replies.

*

Barristan Selmy stares at the massed pile of papers in front of him and wonders what he had missed.

It had seemed so simple at the time, so perfect:

Sansa's mother, brother and uncle went to the wedding with two friends. All five were discovered two days later, two miles away from the property, with their throats cut. Several guests at the wedding recalled the victims leaving in the company of Petyr Baelish, after a long, heated conversation between Baelish and Catelyn Stark.

Three weeks later, Joffrey Baratheon was dead, throat cut, and Sansa Stark had gone missing.

Considering the fact that Baelish had past history with Catelyn Stark ( _bad_ history), and a record of attempted assault against her fiance, it seemed logical. He had been thwarted and humiliated all those years earlier, and now he was taking his revenge on Catelyn and her new family. Open and close.

But now Sansa Stark, of all people, had blown up the station and kidnapped Walder Frey from his holding cell. It didn't make any _sense_.

"Look at this," Brienne says, holding up her hand. She picks up a piece of paper and waves it at them. "They analyzed all of the blood in the apartment, and some of it was Sansa's, right? Well, we assumed it came from the one attack, but when they collected it, it was completely dry."

"So?" Lancel asks. He brushes a hand through his bristly blond hair.

"So, it must've been from before the murder. And they found it _everywhere_. What if Joffrey was beating her? I mean, if her blood was just in one room, or maybe two, I could believe it's from the attack. But in _all_ of the rooms? And they found evidence of someone cleaning up past bloodstains."

"Did she go to the emergency room at all when she was living with Joffrey?" Clegane asks.

"We didn't check," Selmy says. "But I'll bet you she did."

"Why would Baelish murder her family and her boyfriend but not her?"

"We all thought it was about Cat," Selmy says. "We thought it was revenge for the past, but- Gods-" he shakes his head.

"What if Baelish didn't murder her family at all?" Brienne says.

"Just her boyfriend, and he was abusive," Clegane says. "He was _protecting her_."

"And her family," Selmy says. He could kick himself for not seeing it earlier. "He wasn't threatening Cat at the wedding, he was warning her. He knew that someone at the wedding had it in for them." _He loved Cat. Of course he wouldn't kill her. That's why he 'saved' Sansa._

"Walder Frey," Brienne says. "She did all of this just to get at Walder Frey. What was he in for, anyways?"

"He was caught with an illegal weapon. His family wouldn't post bail," Lancel says.

"How the fuck did _Sansa_ find out about that?" Brienne says.

"Police monitor," Sandor Clegane rumbles. "Baelish is always ahead of the game."

"Looks like Frey owed the Starks a lot of cash," Brienne says. She looks up at them, speculative. "That's motive for murder."

"Seven hells," Selmy says. He runs a hand over his face.

"And now we have to find them before they kill Walder Frey," Brienne says.

"She said they were staying in the mountains," he says.

"She was probably lying," Clegane says.

"We should still _check_ \- get air support out there-"

"Barristan," Brienne says, trying to look sympathetic. "You're off the case. Go home for a while."

"But-" he says.

"You almost got blown up," Brienne says firmly. "Lancel will take you home."

*

"They didn't take me off the case because I got _blown up_ ," he says when Lancel drives him home, "it's because I'm old. And because I fucked up the case the first time around."

Lancel flinches, but says nothing. Selmy slams the door when he gets out.

His apartment is bare and cold and constricting. He considers calling HQ and raising hell until they put him back on the case, but that would be pointless. When Brienne decides something, neither hell nor high water can move her.

He catches sight of himself in the mirror and wonders what other people see. White hair, a lined face, an expanding waistline- he's up for retirement in two years. Maybe they think he's too old, now. He doesn't mind doing office work, but this case-

 _This case_ is his.

He makes a microwave dinner, and watches tv without seeing what's on the screen.

 _They're in the mountains_ , he thinks. _She was double bluffing_.

He _knows_ Petyr Baelish. Knows how the man works. Knows how he always manages to slip the knot. They've never _really_ been able to pin anything on him. Except for Joffrey Baratheon. He slipped up there.

It was their one chance, and now they're squandering it.

He pours himself a generous glass of wine, and pulls out his map collection. There's one main road going into the mountains, and a few isolated communities scattered along it. He traces the thick line with his finger, mentally calculating how long it'll take him to get up into the mountains.

At two in the morning, he grabs his gun and his jacket and gets into his car.

If they won't search the mountains, he will.

*

He turns follows the main highway into the mountains until it turns into a single-track road. His radio fizzles out. At five thirty, he swings off of the highway, on to a gravel road. There's a little town five miles behind him, just the sort of place where fugitives might stock up on supplies, and there are fresh tire marks on the dirt between the road and the gravel.

When dawn is just beginning to tint the night sky, he sees the tire treads again. This time they're turning off of the gravel road on to a small dirt track that could only be charitably called a road. It winds tortuously up the side of the mountain, and he grits his teeth every time the car bounces over a rock. His transmission is going to be completely shot.

He only hopes it's worth it.

Slowly, the road widens and evens out. A grey farmhouse appears through the mists, two stories with a garden in front and a green truck parked around the side. It looks warm, almost homely. He cuts the engine before he reaches the building, and walks the rest of the way along the road.

There's no signs of life from the outside, but Selmy is still cautious. He takes his gun out of its holster and pushes open the little cast-iron garden gate. It opens silently at his touch. The flower beds have been dug up, he notices, and there's a mound of bare earth that's just about the right size for a grave.

Somehow he knows, without a doubt, that he's found Walder Frey.

Which means he's also found Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark.

 

The front door swings open when he nudges it. The house is richly carpeted, and pictures line the walls. Two pairs of muddy rainboots have been abandoned in the front hall. He peers at the pictures curiously; Sansa Stark and Petyr Baelish smile back at him, carelessly sprawled out on a beach. A young boy sits sulking almost out of frame. Catelyn Stark, young and radiant, cradles a baby.

Selmy moves through the living room, alert for any movement or sound, but there's only the ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere in the house. It's dark outside, but no lights are on. Coals flicker in the master fireplace, though, so there must be someone home. He checks the hall, wincing as a board cracks under his foot, and then goes into the kitchen.

Baelish is standing in the kitchen in his boxers, fishing a tea bag out of a ceramic mug. His bare chest is bisected by a wide, ragged line of scar tissue, a relic of his first knife fight. The fight for Catelyn Stark.

For an instant they both stare at each other, surprised.

"Don't move!" Selmy snaps, going for his gun. Baelish hurls a mug of boiling water at his head and he ducks. The mug shatters against the wall. When Selmy looks up, Baelish is already coming at him, a knife in his hand. His shoulder slams into Selmy's chin and they both drop to the floor. The gun goes off as they fall and but the bullet embeds itself harmlessly in the wall behind them. He ignores the pain in his neck and grapples with Baelish, sliding on the tiles. The knife flashes past his face, almost splitting his skin. Selmy shoves Baelish back with a burst of effort and clubs him on the side of the head with his pistol.

There's a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Someone is coming down the stairs.

Baelish drops the knife and reels back, and Selmy uses the advantage to slam Baelish's head against the counter. There's a dull crack and then Baelish falls facedown on the ground, blood matting his greying hair.

Selmy turns to face his new opponent and finds Sansa Stark standing on the threshold, naked as the day she was born. Her long hair is a dull brown now, and she's holding a snub-nosed pistol in her shaking hands.

His gun is on the floor half a foot behind him. He must've dropped it after hitting Baelish.

Something explodes inside his chest and the impact throws him back against the kitchen table. Warm blood cascades down his body. He slumps against a table leg and watches in slow motion as Sansa drops to her knees beside Baelish.

 _I was the best damn policeman,_ he thinks. Sansa turns Baelish over, her hair falling over her face. The last thing he sees is Sansa's bloodied hands in Petyr Baelish's hair.


End file.
